


two wrongs don't make a right (but they make us even)

by majesdane



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-04
Updated: 2009-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A week later and they're really not any closer than they were before.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	two wrongs don't make a right (but they make us even)

  
As soon as things start being the way they should be instead of the way they are, I'll start telling them to you that way.  
\-- _pleasefindthis_

 

 

 

She thinks that Effy should like her.

In her mind, she lists off the reasons why they should be friends: they're both popular, both of them are fit, they are both ace dressers, boys want to shag them, they're the best looking girls in all of Roundview College, etcetera, etcetera. As far as Katie's concerned, by all accounts they should be best friends right now. Only, Effy doesn't seem to like her very much (or even want to be around her, really) which Katie finds highly irritating, because Effy's supposed _best friend_ is a bit of a mindless twit who wouldn't know how to dress if fashion sense fell on her.

It's almost insulting, really.

 

;;

 

"I like Effy," Emily says one day while they're waiting for Danny to come pick them up. "She's nice. A bit odd though, I think."

Katie says, "She's cool," a bit more forcefully than she intends to; she just wants Emily to shut up.

 

;;

 

"So, you've fucked Cook," Katie ends up saying, when they arrive at Effy's house, and she doesn't even know if she's like, wanted there, but this is where Effy and Pandora went after leaving the boys behind, and it seemed as good idea as any to follow them.

They're in Effy's room, which is so lacking in color that it reminds Katie a bit like a mental hospital, with everything just plain fucking _white_ , and somehow it's not surprising at all. It seems to fit Effy, is what she thinks, as Pandora flops down onto Effy's ridiculously over-sized bed, giggling. Effy sits down on the bed beside her; Katie perches over on a chair by the window.

"Yeah," Effy says, pulls a fag out of nowhere, lights up. She exhales slowly, the smoke from the burning end of her fag drifting up idly towards the ceiling in lazy curls.

Katie wants to ask how Effy could shag someone as repulsive as Cook. Instead she says, "How was it?"

What follows is one of those long pauses that Katie's quickly gotten used to, like Effy almost can't be bothered to talk, ever, and only after a bit does she speak, in a slow, bored tone, in a way that makes Katie feel stupid. "Fine."

Katie draws up knees up, rests her chin on them, watches Effy smoke.

After some time, Effy finishes her fag, crushes it out in the ashtray on her nightstand. She turns back slowly, her eyes meeting Katie's; Katie's suddenly amazed by the blue of Effy's eyes, bright and slightly unnerving, especially in the semi-darkness. In the pale moonlight, her skin looks remarkably soft, and it's only slightly grudgingly that Katie concedes that Effy's rather -- well, she's rather fucking gorgeous. Effy's lips curve up into a thin smile and Katie feels her face growing hot, as if Effy can read her mind.

"I should probably go," Katie says faintly, manages to climb out of the chair and grab her coat off of Effy's floor without stumbling, her head spinning from coke and too much alcohol.

Effy doesn't say a word.

 

;;

 

A week later and they're really not any closer than they were before.

She doesn't like to think of herself as being like Emily, who follows Naomi around like a lost puppy (Katie thinks Emily is a fucking twat, still doesn't understand why Emily wants to like, be friends with such a cunt); she follows Effy around, yeah, but that's because Effy's like, _cool_ , and she and Katie are on the same levels. They're equals.

It's not the same thing.

And anyway, she's _trying_ to be friends, but Effy is a bit of a cunt and up-herself at times, and Katie can't stand the way _nothing_ she says ever seems to mean anything.

 

;;

 

She finds Effy outside the club, smoking, and it's in the light of the street lamps does she notice just how fucking short Effy's dress is and just how _long_ Effy's legs are, and she finds herself subconsciously adjusting her own top and skirt.

"What's up?" She asks, digging a fag and a pack of matches out of her pocketbook; it takes her three tries to light up, her hands shaking slightly as she cups her hand around the flame, holding the fag between her teeth. She almost never uses matches, but she'd forgotten to grab her lighter off her dresser before she and Emily had left that evening.

She takes an eager drag, the smoke burning in her lungs, as Effy says finally, "Nothing."

Then, "You broke up with Danny then, yeah?"

Katie figures it's rather obvious that she has and she's sure Effy already knows anyway, is only asking for the sake of it, but she says, "Yeah. Two nights after Panda's party. I found a picture of him online from one of his football team parties; licking whipped cream off of some slag's tits. Fucking tosser," she grumbles, exhaling heavily.

"He was," Effy says. Clarifies: "A tosser, I mean."

They stand there in silence for a bit.

Effy finishes her cigarette; flicks what's left of it away casually. Doesn't move.

Katie looks over. "Aren't you going back inside? I think that like, Cook's waiting for you. Freddie too, probably."

"I know," Effy says, voice flat. Bored. "I just don't care. The night's fucking dead, anyway. I'm not drunk or high enough." She turns to look at Katie, raises an eyebrow. "Want to come to my house, get totally fucked up?"

Her fag almost done, she lets it fall to the ground, crushes it on the dirty cement with the toe of her black leather heel, swallows hard, says, "Yeah, sure. Why fucking not."

She doesn't bother to text Emily to let her know she's leaving; she's probably too busy trying to make friends with that stupid cunt Naomi. And she doesn't even want to _think_ about that, about when she saw _Emily_ kiss _Naomi_ , because it just makes her fucking sick to her stomach and Emily had said -- _again_ \-- that it was just the drugs, but she's said it before and Katie's not sure if she believes her this time.

(She'll make her promise, she thinks, as Effy dials for a taxi. Promise that she's not a fucking dyke.)

 

;;

 

"I think I'm properly fucked up now," Katie says, an hour later after they've finished a bottle of wine between the two of them and are currently passing a spliff back and forth.

Effy just plucks the spliff from between Katie's fingers, takes an incredibly long drag of it, exhales slowly, blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling with a lazy grin.

"Sometimes I wonder," she says, after a beat, taking another small drag of the spliff before handing it back.

"Wonder what?" Katie asks, her mind a bit hazy from too much wine.

"If you're anything like your sister," Effy says, and suddenly Katie's aware of the uncomfortable closeness of Effy's face to hers, how their noses are almost touching. She flinches slightly when Effy's hand settles on her thigh, almost drops the goddamn spliff on the bed when Effy leans in and kisses her lightly.

It's brief, hardly a kiss at all, put Katie jerks back quickly, wipes at her mouth with her hand.

"I guess not," Effy says, and Katie thinks there's almost a hint of like -- fuck, _disappointment_ , maybe -- but mostly it's just that same bored tone that Effy's always using, like, oh _whatever_ , and Katie clutches at the blankets to steady herself, because her head is spinning.

She feels sick.

"What the _fuck_ ," she finally manages to sputter out and it comes out sounding lame and not like, mean and forceful like she intended it to.

Effy shrugs, takes back the spliff, finishes it off, sets it aside.

Katie's still reeling from the kiss, can't even begin to process it, not even a bit, aside from that tiny part of her that's thinking about how soft Effy's lips felt against hers and _Christ_. She says, "I'm not a fucking lezza," and Effy shrugs again and says, "Neither am I," all nonchalant-like, like she didn't just kiss Katie and this isn't a big deal.

"And what does that mean, anyway," Katie asks, even though she doesn't really want to hear the answer. "That I'm not like Emily."

Effy raises an eyebrow, expression unreadable.

"Nothing," she says blandly. "Didn't mean anything by it."

 

;;

 

She wakes up the next morning with her face pressed into Effy's pillow and her head pounding with a massive headache, and she doesn't even let herself think about what happened last night, even though she can still feel Effy's mouth on hers.

 

;;

 

The next time she wanks off, turning her face into the pillow to smother her moans -- and it somehow smells like vanilla, like Effy's pillows, which doesn't help -- Effy's brilliant blue eyes flash into her mind, and despite her best intentions, her thoughts turn to Effy kissing her; she comes unexpectedly hard, legs shaking, biting down on the inside of her cheek so hard that she can taste blood on her tongue.

 

;;

 

"So like, are you and Cook seeing each other?" She asks Effy one day at lunch, and her and Pandora both turn to look at Effy, who swallows and then says, very casually, "I'm fucking him occasionally, yeah."

Katie nods, because alright, yeah, she gets that, even if she does think Effy's a bit of a slut; she feels a tiny spark of moral superiority, because Katie Fitch doesn't fuck just _anyone_ , especially a repulsive tosser like Cook. It makes her smile.

"What about Freddie, then," Pandora says, completely nonchalant about the whole thing.

"Freddie's cool," Effy says, and Katie watches as Effy glances over at where the boys are sitting, Cook and JJ having an animated conversation about something, Freddie just fucking _sitting_ there, probably stoned out of his mind, and then Katie realizes that he's like, fucking _watching_ Effy.

And Effy knows it, too.

It makes feel unexpectedly sick.

 

;;

 

"I'm drunk," Katie slurs with a laugh, and Effy smiles in a wolfish sort of way, showing far too much teeth; Katie shivers unintentionally.

"Come on then," Effy says, grabs her arms and tugs Katie to the bathroom without any sort of explanation or excuse, and Katie follows, because that's all she ever does, is follow Effy fucking Stonem's lead.

Katie doesn't even say anything when Effy leads her into the bathroom, towards the last stall on the end, doesn't even question it when Effy pulls her inside that stall, locks it behind them both with a bit of a satisfied smirk. It's only when Effy _kisses_ her does she like, snap into consciousness, and her head's spinning from too much alcohol and she can't muster up the strength to push Effy away, but --

"I'm no fucking lezza," she tells Effy, when the kiss is over.

"I know, you've told me before," Effy says, in that terrible condescending tone of hers, and Katie just reaches out and slaps her across the face, hard, and she can feel her palm stinging afterward.

Effy deserved it though, Katie thinks, and it was really for her own good, because she's clearly on _something_ right now -- she must be, with the way she's acting -- and she's not right in the head. That, and Effy seems to think that she like, actually wants this, and no, she doesn't.

But then Effy just smirks and pushes her back against the stall door, kisses her _again_ , and Katie thinks, fuck it, kisses her back, because if Effy's that high and like, determined to get her off, she may as well let her, because she hasn't had a decent fuck in ages, and Effy's a slut, so she must have some idea on how to do it properly.

 

;;

 

Effy presses a kiss to the top of Katie's breast, while her fingers work under Katie's skirt, pushing aside her knickers and slip-sliding against her clit; Katie bites down on Effy's shoulder through her top, doesn't even care if she leaves marks.

It's not enough and finally she manages a furious _more_ in Effy's ear, spreading her legs to allow Effy greater purchase and Effy stops long enough to yank Katie's knickers down to mid-thigh, pushing two fingers in with little difficulty. (She's so goddamn wet, from having Effy fuck her like this, but she can't even bring herself to feel the tiniest bit of shame, letting Effy do this to her in the dirty bathroom of some club.)

She curls her fingers and Katie lets out a strangled, " _Oh_ ," and she's really _not_ gay, she thinks, and then realizes, a bit horrified, that this quite possibly may be the best sex she's ever had and if it were with any other girl _but_ Effy Stonem -- well, she doesn't think that it _would_ ever happen with any other girl but Effy. She bites back a moan as Effy's tongue sweeps along the curve of her ear, her thumb pressed firmly Katie's clit.

For a while she tries very hard not to come -- not coming means she's not enjoying this; ergo, she's not gay -- but then Effy removes her hand, slides down to her knees, and all Katie can think of is _fuck_ , and Effy's wet fingers gripping her thigh, as Effy leans forward and runs her tongue along the length of her cunt.

"Fuck," Katie whimpers, almost embarrassed at how close she is to coming, just _how fucking wet_ she is, and she bites down on her bottom lip,arching up as Effy takes her clit into her mouth, sucking on it roughly, her tongue pressed flat against it.

It's too much; she comes incredibly hard, hips jerking up into Effy's mouth, biting down onto her knuckles to keep from crying out. When Effy pulls back, sits back on her ankles, Katie can see her face is shiny with wetness and -- and then Effy just fucking _licks her lips_ and Katie almost feels like she may come again. Her legs feel weak; she sags heavily against the tiled wall, grasping out blindly for support, because she feels near ready to pass out.

Effy's there, suddenly, holding her up, pinning her to the wall, kissing her softly.

Katie shoves her away, as soon as she can catch her breath, wipes her mouth on the back of her hand shakily.

Neither of them say anything. Effy stares at her for several long moment, a wicked grin on her face, arms crossed, and Katie can only think about what she must look like right now; hair mussed, clothes dishevelled, flushed and sweaty and --

She can't stand it the look on Effy's face.

 

;;

 

When she gets back home, Emily's sitting up in bed reading _Hamlet_ and eating an apple. She looks at Katie when she comes into the room, tossing her purse onto her bed with a sigh, keeps looking until Katie snaps, " _What_ ," before starting to undress, and she looks back down at the book in her lap.

Emily's still pointedly looking down at the book -- but not actually reading it, Katie notes, because she hasn't turned a fucking page in five minutes -- when Katie leaves to go take a shower, as if she'll be able to wash away the feeling like she's a right bloody slag, letting Effy fuck her like that in the club's bathroom. And she's not -- she's not a --

"I'm _not_ ," she tells herself, mumbling it out loud as she turns on the water.

Except, while she's washing her hair, all she can think about if Effy's lips on hers, of Effy's tongue on her skin, of Effy's goddamn fingers _inside_ her, and the way she clenched around Effy's fingers when she came, how she saw stars behind her eyelids. She rinses her hair, shudders, reaches for the conditioner.

It's fucking disgusting.

 

;;

 

"You look ill," Emily says, still hasn't moved from where she was almost an hour earlier. "What's up?"

"I'm just drunk," Katie says, though she's not really; the alcohol had worn off ages ago. She climbs into bed, turns off the light, purposefully turns her back to Emily, who she hopes will be thus deterred from asking anymore sodding questions about how she is.

 

;;

 

The teacher's droning on about _Hamlet_ , which Katie hasn't even bothered to read, because Emily will tell her all she needs to know before the exam anyway -- and on the off-chance that she doesn't, Katie will just steal her notes, so either way she's sorted and she can't be arsed at all to pay attention, is too busy trying to avoid Effy's gaze from across the room.

(Last night all she could dream about was Effy's hand between her leg, stroking her roughly, and she'd finally woken up at three in the morning with the sheets kicked off and her knickers soaked through and it had only taken a few moments of wanking before she'd come, incredibly hard, not even bothering to stifle her moans.)

Freddie saunters into class about halfway through the lesson, sits down in the empty spot beside Effy, and Katie can just _see_ the way he looks at her, all of the not-at-all subtle glances, and it's just so --

Effy's arm is on the desk next to his; Katie can see how close they are, how Effy just reaches out with two fingers, casual as all that, watches as she gently strokes Freddie's arm. And it's almost too goddamn much and she jabs the tip of her pen down into her notebook, _hard_ , and she's actually fucking _grateful_ when Naomi starts spouting off some bullshit about Hamlet being like, some stupid tosser, because at least it's a distraction.

She's not fucking stupid; it's obvious that Freddie is like, in love -- or at least, lust -- with Effy. And it's obnoxiously clear that the feeling is mutual.

 

;;

 

It's only later when she realizes: if _she_ has Freddie, he can't have Effy. And Effy can't have him.

She figures it's good enough.

 

;;

 

Freddie's surprisingly easy to draw in -- or not, really, because he's a bit like a kicked puppy, the way he sits around just moping over Effy, knowing that she's off fucking Cook somewhere. Whatever, Katie thinks, as she tips her head back and finishes the last of her bottle of cider, makes a show of licking her lips when she's done, looking pointedly in Freddie's direction.

And that's all it takes, really, that and a spliff, and ten minutes later they're outside and he's got her pushed up against the brick wall in the alley beside the club, kissing her hungrily; she runs her fingers through his hair, grips his head and kisses him back just as hard.

When his hands slip under her skirt, brush against her knickers, she pulls back, says, "Not here," and he nods and takes a step back. Katie can taste cider in her mouth, and the faint taste of vodka and spliff, and she can't help but think that he tastes nothing like Effy, who tasted like alcolpops the two times they'd kissed like, proper.

He takes her back to his shed and really, she feels a _lot_ like a slag now, getting fucked in some place like this, but she supposes it's a step up from letting Effy get her off in that disgusting club bathroom. He's gentler than most of the other boys she's been with, moves slower, at any rate, and it's just . . . different. And yeah, alright, it's nice enough, but it's not what she expected and she doesn't even come, the first time.

Later, when they fuck again, this time in his bedroom, she does come, but only when Freddie sighs Effy's name, and it's so wrong on so many goddamn levels, but she doesn't even care right now.

 

;;

 

 _Why did you do it_ , she wants to ask Effy, because she just wants to know _why_ Effy kissed her, why Effy fucked her that night, and Katie's not willing to buy that it was just because she was fucked up, that she was off her tits or high or whatever, because that the sort of excuse Emily would make, and Effy is massively better than her weirdo sister.

Still, she can't figure out why Effy would do such a thing.

(There's also what Effy'd said, about her being like Emily, and she doesn't really know what that means -- she has the faintest of ideas, but she keeps it pushed to the back of her mind, refuses to think about it, because it's just fucking _wrong_. And Emily's not like -- whatever, it's not important, Effy's a stupid cunt.)

She kisses Freddie before she leaves, tugging on her clothes unceremoniously, while he lounges back on the bed looking slightly dazed, legs tangled in his faded blue sheets.

She texts Effy once she's outside.

 

;;

 

Effy shows up at her doorstep half an hour after Katie's arrived home herself.

Emily's gone for the night, off doing God-know what -- probably with Naomi, Katie thinks, feels a tiny spark of anger at that thought -- and Katie lets Effy in without a word; Effy follows her silently up to her bedroom, sits down on the edge of Katie's bed and just _looks_ at her.

Finally Katie says, "I just felt like getting fucked up, and I didn't want to do it alone."

She strides across the room, pulls a half-empty bottle of vodka from her dresser, unscrews the cap, takes a huge swallow of it, grimacing. She joins Effy back on the bed; Effy takes the bottle from her, takes an impossibly long swallow of it, before exhaling with a sigh.

"How's Cook?" Katie asks, trying to break the uncomfortable silence between them.

"Fine." Effy takes another large gulp of vodka, frowns a bit. "Where's Emily?"

"No fucking clue," Katie says, and they lapse once more into silence. Then, after several long moments, Katie finally says, point blank, because there's no point in trying to like, pretty it up, "At the club that time -- why did you fuck me?"

Effy shrugs, stares straight ahead. "Felt like it."

It's not the answer Katie's expecting. "What the fuck, Effy," she says, grabs the bottle of vodka back, gripping it tightly. "Are you, like, a fucking -- "

"No," Effy says flatly, before Katie can finish. "Sex is just sex."

"It's disgusting," Katie says angrily, gripping the bottle tighter; her knuckles are white. "And I'm not like -- I like _cock_ , alright, so don't think that it's ever going to happen again."

Another shrug. Silence.

"Well, what the _fuck_ ," Katie says, frustrated, because Effy just can't possibly be this okay with what happened, that sex _isn't_ just sex, that it fucking like, _means_ something. And it's just not okay; she tells Effy this, and Effy turns to look at her, with her stupidly brilliant blue eyes, before leaning in and kissing her again.

A lot of things run through her mind when Effy kisses her, the first being that she somehow tastes like raspberries, and also tequila, and a bit like cigarettes, and it's such an odd combination that it makes her head spin. The second thing that goes through her mind is that she's almost like, fucking _missed_ this, because it's oddly very nice, and she's sure that if it were anyone but Effy, she'd be like, shoving them off the bed.

The third thing that she thinks of is that Effy apparently doesn't care that she likes cock, which is why she keeps kissing her like this, and this leads into the fourth thing, which is that she kind of fucking hates Effy Stonem for being so smug and up-herself and making her squirm uncomfortably, when her hand settles on Katie's knee.

"Can you please just stop," Katie says quietly, when Effy pulls away.

"Why?" Effy asks, and she sounds so geniuely curious when she says it that it makes Katie's stomach twist into anxious knots.

She doesn't know _why_ , except for the very solid reason that she very much likes cock and has never fancied a girl in her life, has never once even _considered_ fancying a girl, let alone ever thought about having a girl do to her the kinds of things that Effy's done -- and it seems like a very weak excuse to her right now, because they both know that she liked it, Effy fucking her. So it's really just a moot point.

"I don't like girls," she says simply, then gasps sharply when Effy's hand darts under her skirt and her fingers skate over her knickers.

Katie feels her face grow hot as Effy grins and says, "Maybe not, but you certainly like this," and all she can think about as Effy's hand slips into her knickers is how wet she is, almost embarrassingly so, and Effy doesn't say anything about it, but her eyes are bright and eager and she's still grinning, when she pulls her hand away, licks her fingers clean.

Katie chokes down a moan at the sight.

 

;;

 

It's not at all how she planned for things to go, but they end up fucking on her bed, Effy on top, two fingers inside Katie, working in and out slowly, her thumb pressed firmly against Katie's clit. And it feels like everything's moving in slow motion and like it takes her ages to come; she pulls Effy's head down just before she does, kissing her roughly, her hips jerking up into Effy's fingers.

(It's better than getting fucked by Freddie, Katie thinks, tells herself it's because Effy's not stoned out her mind, tells herself it's the _only_ reason why it's better.)

She's still panting when Effy sits back on her heels and wordlessly slips a hand down the front of her own knickers, head tipped back, eyes closed, and all Katie can do is watch, dazed, as Effy gets herself off, coming only moments later with a small shudder. Katie licks her lips subconsciously, sucks in her breath; it _shouldn't_ be this hot, but it _is_ and she's half-scared and half-angry, because it's just _wrong_.

 

;;

 

"I won't tell, if that's what you're worried about," Effy says blandly, minutes later, pulls a fag out of fucking nowhere, and Katie doesn't even have the energy to tell her not to smoke inside. Effy exhales slowly; Katie watches the smoke drift up towards the ceiling. "You've proved to be rather interesting, Katie Fitch," Effy says. "Surprising."

"Fuck off," Katie says tiredly, runs a hand through her hair.

She wants to sleep, but she's not going to do it with Effy sitting here in her room; laying back against the pillows, she nudges Effy roughly with her foot. "Come on then," she prods. "You've got to leave; we've got college tomorrow. I need to sleep."

Effy reaches over, trails her fingers along Katie's bare ankle, halfway up her calf, and it's unexpectedly soft and gentle, and Katie feels herself growing wet once more, and a strange feeling settles in the pit of her stomach, a combination of lust and something else which she can't put name to. And then she feels a sort of anger, that Effy can do this to her, make her feel so needy and uncertain, and she kicks at Effy again, harder this time.

" _Go_ ," she says.

Effy does.

 

;;

 

She can't for the life of her understand what Effy fucking _sees_ in Freddie, because he hasn't got a sodding personality and always reeks of pot, but she concedes he's rather fit. He's alright when it comes to fucking, too, she thinks, but she always ends up thinking of Effy when he's fingering her, which isn't good at all.

It's no secret, really, that he fancies Effy.

Katie asks him point blank one afternoon, what's so fucking special about Effy Stonem, and Freddie starts, flushes, and then stammers something about how pretty she is, and it's exactly the sort of thing Katie expects to hear, because what else is appealing about Effy, aside from her decidedly gorgeous eyes and her impossibly long legs.

There's something else too, and she can't put her finger on it, why all the boys fancy Effy, and she thinks it has to do with how goddamn _mysterious_ she is.

And she's a good fuck, too, Katie thinks somewhat belatedly; the thought leaves a bitter taste in her mouth and she hates herself for even still thinking about Effy: Effy's fingers inside her, her smug grin, about how pale her skin looked in the moonlight the first time Effy kissed her, and how her eyes -- the only exceptional thing about her, Katie thinks -- are always such a steadfast brilliant blue colour.

She fucking hates thinking about all these things, hates even more the rush of some nameless emotion that cuts across her heart, basis indeterminable.

But mostly she just fucking _hates_ Effy Stonem.


End file.
